Emergence
by WillowVk8339
Summary: There is a difference between the world ending and life ending. A wise man once said, "Where there is life, there is hope." Beth Greene just needed to figure out if there was enough hope to keep her alive. Bethyl.
1. Chapter 1

With her heart pounding, Beth dug out a hole in the ground. Clumps of dirt embedded themselves beneath her nails, beads of sweat dribbled down her face, and her slim muscles ached.

As she dropped a couple of twigs into the center of the hole, a slight tremor shook her hands.

"What are you doing?" said a familiar voice.

The sound of sticks falling to the ground was quickly proceeded by arms enveloping Beth's torso. Then she was unceremoniously hoisted backwards.

Beth looked up at Morgan, her big blue eyes weary. She was aware of how easily he could lift her nowadays. She was getting weaker and she knew it.

"I just wanted to help. I can't keep letting you do everything, Morgan. We all have jobs—"

"Your only job is to _rest_ ," he interrupted. "And I can handle things just fine."

Her gaze softened. "I'm getting worse and I'm slowing you down. You know that." She watched Morgan pick up where she left off, seemingly oblivious at her attempt to segue into _this_ conversation. So she tried again. "Morgan..."

"We'll stop in the next town over, figure out where we are." He paused. "I'll find medicine, and then we'll bunker down until you're rested enough to travel."

Beth looked away, suddenly conscious of her myriad of deficiencies. She was wearing old jeans, which had once been tight but now sagged in weird places, a hole infested black tank-top, and a purple fleece hoodie jacket. Her hair, although in a high ponytail, still stuck to the nape of her neck in dirty blonde clusters. It's not like she brushed it lately, anyhow.

Furthermore, she was sick. A liability.

"Never suggest I leave you behind, Beth. Cause it ain't gonna happen. We're gonna get to Washington, together."

After a moment of tense silence, she nodded slowly. "Okay, together."

 _And I'll try not to slow you down_ , _either,_ she silently amended. _You'll find somewhere safe if it's the last thing I do._

The world contained a lot of dead people and options were scarce. When she got separated from Noah back in Atlanta, Beth wasn't sure what to do, or where to go. However, in a strange twist of fate, the impossible happened: Beth met Morgan. And it just so happened that the map Morgan possessed was the only lead Beth had to anyone from the Prison.

 _Rick Grimes. Washington, D.C._

An empty feeling in the pit of her stomach triggered a twinge of unease to swell inside her, on cue. As thoughts of Daryl and Maggie and Judith settled into the forefront of her mind, she shifted, almost fidgety, until she rested on her elbows.

While a distant hoot of an owl cooed in the background, the beginnings of a strong breeze picked up. Leaves stirred on the forest floor, and the intensity of the sunlight streaming through the canopy diminished, then returned.

Beth pulled out her diary and flipped to the last page. Once there, she traced her fingers over her swirly script. The page, now discolored and creased, used to be a thank you note to that phantom funeral man for the food, shelter, peace of mind, however brief. But now, it was simply a reminder.

Beth closed her eyes and took a calming breath.

"Feeling nostalgic?"

Her eyes popped open and she glanced over at her friend, confused. "What?"

Morgan put the water over the fire to boil. Then, after dusting off his hands, he pushed himself back until he sat next to her. He laid his arms over the tops of his knees and said, "Well, you always get this — I don't know — this look on your face when you pull that out." He gestured to her diary. "I was just curious."

"Yeah, I guess," she admitted. She fingered the ragged edges of the worn journal before stuffing it back into the bottom of her rucksack.

Morgan tore open their last packet of hot chocolate mix and sprinkled it into the simmering water. Not feeling particularly thirsty anymore, Beth pushed off from her spot on the ground, using the log beside her as leverage.

It was hard to miss the blunt expression of trepidation ripple across Morgan's features. She could practically hear the admonishment on the tip of his tongue.

"I'm fine," she stated, quick to counter any concern. "I'm just gonna try to rest a little more."

"All right," Morgan said, and his voice was deceptively neutral.

With the help of the walking stick he'd given her, she left him to his breakfast and ambled over to the abandoned car that they had been camping in. She settled into the passenger seat and shut the door, feeling her muscles relax with the resounding _click_ of the lock.

As Beth shot Morgan one last glance, she caught an unsettling glimpse of herself in the side view mirror. A gray knit hat hid the upper portion of her blonde hair and most of her forehead, but the color drained her. Her eyes looked sunken, and the dark bruise like circles beneath them merely highlighted the waxy hue to her skin.

For the second time this morning, she turned away, swallowing down the growing urge to cry.

* * *

 **AN:** Thank you for reading! Please leave a review!

* * *

 **Mandatory disclaimer: Everything in the Walking Dead Universe—and its characters belongs to AMC and its creators. Similarities to the original characters or themes from the show and/or comics are used on here for entertainment purposes only. No profit is being made. No infringement intended.**


	2. Chapter 2

Beth meandered down the dank hallway of O'Malley's Bar and Grill in slow, measured steps, her gun and flashlight outstretched. The building was bigger than it looked from the outside, so she was careful to sweep every corner, investigate any shadow.

Her lips were dry. She licked them, trembling. Then before she could overthink the reaction her body was having, she locked her jaw, quelling the sudden urge to hug herself against the continuous chill stretching over her bones. Morgan said she was feverish, but Beth was so _cold_.

It had been no more than ten minutes ago when Morgan left her in the front of the bar to rest while he scavenged. Beth, however, refused to just wait around. Figured, she might as well do something.

She overestimated herself.

The paneling covering the walls was dark—mahogany or walnut, she thought vaguely, trying to distract herself. There were only three doors to choose from, all of which were locked except for one. She turned the doorknob while straining her ears to hear beyond the creaking hinges as the door swung open.

Dust coated her lungs, and she coughed.

The room was devoid of life, alive or otherwise, aside from two mismatched cabinets resting side by side, an old orange couch, and a short lamp with an amber lightshade on the fireplace mantel. Wires ran from a jagged hole in one wall and a thick orange extension cord slithered into another.

With enough sun coming in through the window, she lowered her flashlight and inched her way inside. She dug through the drawers first, but found nothing besides some old tax forms and paystubs. Then she pulled apart the couch.

After coming up empty handed again, she kicked a moth eaten cushion, a quite mumbled 'crap' playing on her lips.

She shook her head and, using her sleeve, wiped off the sweat accumulating on her brow. Taking a defeated step back, she turned to leave. A flash from the window, though, made her pause.

Cracked and narrow, the window overlooked the sprawling length of a factory next door. She started scanning the area, but then terror seized her.

 _Morgan, what are you doing?_

Beth swore under her breath. Ignoring her aching muscles and dwindling strength, she ran as fast as she could out of the bar. Morgan had been walking, purposefully, towards a horde of walkers swarming a car. He's gonna get himself killed, Beth thought. She swallowed down the panic lodged at the back of her throat.

Skirting around the back of the building, she gripped her gun tightly, the fine hairs on the back of her neck standing up straight in anticipation. Morgan was already inside the fence.

Beth raised her weapon, and still walking forward, fired. Again. And then again. A walker slumped to the pavement with each pull of the trigger. However, as soon as Morgan opened the car door, and the passengers scrambled out, she froze.

 _Daryl?_ Beth thought in disbelief. But it was true, and now her panicked senses could interpret the scene in front of her. Daryl was fighting his way out of the remaining horde, running and ducking in quick, coordinated motions.

Her mind had gotten hold of the idea quite clearly, but there was no reaction in her body. An instant later it swept over her. As if a stranger had wrapped their hands around Beth's neck and squeezed, she drew in a gasping, wheezing breath. You need to help them, a small, clear part of her mind said. The rest of her was engulfed in the realization that she no more than thirty feet away from a man she thought she'd never see again.

The chain-link gate shrieked, a solitary, high pitched groan, as it closed with a slam. Morgan, Daryl, and the other man that preceded Daryl from the car, stood safely on the other side of the fence, albeit gasping.

Taking a second, Beth holstered her weapon and, sharply, inhaled through her nose. She glanced again at Daryl. He took his crossbow and slid the strap over his chest, then he turned to look at her.

His gaze caught hers, and Beth watched as his eyes widened and then quickly narrowed in what looked like shock. It was almost discerning. His posture stiffened, and he went still. As the site of her seemed to hit him, he stumbled back a step.

The way Daryl's eyes held hers shook Beth to the core. A wash of adrenaline that made her skin tingle painfully and a strange sensation of falling spread through her stomach. She became conscious that they were still locking eyes when Daryl took off at a dead run towards her. "Beth!" he shouted, his voice rough and sharp. "Beth!"

She felt her lips pull back in a smile as she mimicked him, erasing the space between them. The sick frailty of her body was suspended, just for a moment. A spontaneous blend of laughter and an open sob erupted from her throat in pure adoration at the same instant Daryl came and swept her off her feet in a tight embrace.

Leather, grease, and a heady woody scent, an embodiment of the man himself, flooded her senses. Beth smothered her tears in the crook of his neck, feeling the cool fabric of his jacket pressed into her chin.

Daryl clutched at the back of her coat. He sucked in hard breaths, one after the other, never quite succeeding to fill his lungs as he wept.

A surge of relief so powerful trickled through her it ached.

After so long, Daryl pulled back, closing his eyes. His thick dark lashes were wet with tears. She could see them glisten. And as his head bowed forward, his shoulders slumped.

It was one of those moments when impulse overrode thought. Beth took his face between her hands and ran her thumbs over his cheeks.

"Hey, there, Mr. Dixon," she whispered, smiling.

His eyes flashed open, chest heaving and nostrils flaring, but he said nothing. The warm, rapid breaths escaping from between his parted lips fanned her forehead with gusto. She studied the severe expression of anguish racking his face. It made her frown.

She went to say something, break the silence, anything to take away his pain, when an unfamiliar voice interrupted.

"Hello."

Beth relinquished her hold on Daryl's face gradually and turned. Coming from the fence, a man walked towards them, a smile playing at his lips. He didn't look threatening. He had short, curly brown hair and pale, blue eyes, and he was clean. Very clean. This man is from a well-stocked camp, Beth thought.

The stranger's gaze darted between her and Daryl with uncertainty. "Hey there, I'm Aaron."

She smiled. "Hi. I'm—"

"Beth," Aaron supplied. "Yeah." He cut his eyes over to Daryl. "Yeah, I caught that."

Daryl shuffled backwards and swiped a rough hand down his face.

Wiping at her cheeks, Beth nodded at Aaron. "It's nice to meet you."

"Same."

Her fast-acting surge of adrenaline began seeping away with each passing second. She needed to sit down, now. Everything suddenly felt disconnected, like her eyes were open, but she wasn't really the one staring through them.

"Beth?" an urgent voice said.

"I'm, um, I'm . . . s-sorry," Beth slurred, swaying.

The last thing she remembered was solid arms wrapping around her before her vision went black.

* * *

 **AN:** Thank you for reading! Please leave a review!

* * *

 **Mandatory disclaimer: Everything in the Walking Dead Universe—and its characters belongs to AMC and its creators. Similarities to the original characters or themes from the show and/or comics are used on here for entertainment purposes only. No profit is being made. No infringement intended.**


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